


Thorned Beauty

by Osero



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Androgyny, Angst, Aphrodite - Freeform, Blood, Character Death, F/M, I bastardized Greek mythology, I skip through character development, I'm very sorry, It was for school, Love, Non-Canonical Character Death, One Shot, Oops, Romance, Rose - Freeform, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 01:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1126933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Osero/pseuds/Osero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love and Beauty, is known for her affairs in the love lives of mortals and immortals alike. However, this story tells of her own love story that ends in tragedy (like most Greek and Roman myths).</p><p>Or, in other words:</p><p>Aphrodite ends up killing a lot of people in the name of love.</p><p>Side note: This story also tells about the origin of the rose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thorned Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> "Although a rose is beautiful and fair, sharp thorns protect it from those who wish it harm." - Osero

Jeering laughter sounded through the air. A crumpled figure lay prostrate upon the sun-warmed, dusty earth. Men and women, both young and old, gathered around the being. They shouted hateful taunts – words of scorn and ridicule that seemed to resound throughout the air.

Soon enough, the crowd grew tired from yelling abuse at a being that neither responded nor lashed out against their taunts. They dispersed, slowly, until the figure was the last to remain under the harsh rays of Apollo’s chariot.

The figure unhurriedly rose from off the ground, brushing dust from their clothing as they went. Upon straightening, the figure’s full appearance revealed itself.

Vibrant, ginger hair framed a pale, angular face. Long lashes fluttered against high cheekbones with every blink, and a straight, narrow nose led to full, red lips pressed into a smooth line. Their appearance was angelic, almost far too beautiful for a mortal; however, the shielded glint contained within emerald eyes hardened and froze the being’s features.

Upon a closer study, the being was most assuredly male, despite his androgynous appearance. His body was lithe, but tall. Lean muscles shifted as he strode forward, head held even and seemingly uncaring of the distrustful and envious glances he received from the villagers who watched him.

“Incubus.” some whispered as he strode past them.

“Demon.” whispered others.

Unbeknownst to the villagers, their scornful words had been heard by Aeolus, the God and Ruler of the winds. Cradling the whispers within a summer breeze, he directed them towards the home of the gods and goddesses: Mount Olympus.

Once it reached its destination, the wind began to dance and twirl around whomever it happened upon, whispering the words of spite within their ears. Rapidly, the whispers spread from god to god, each wishing to slay the ‘demon’ – each wishing to gain recognition and praise.

The excitement grew, and soon, the gods and goddesses began to demand Zeus to send someone to defeat the demon. Infuriated at the other gods and goddesses’ impudence, Zeus chose to send the beautiful Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty.

However, Aphrodite was exceedingly unhappy with Zeus’s decree. Mind full of anger and spite, she rushed down to earth with the intention of slaying the demon quickly, perhaps releasing some of her frustration whilst doing so.

Upon her arrival to the small, quaint village, the villagers immediately gathered around the unearthly entity amongst their midst – a goddess among men. They showered her with praise and awe, but her attention was directed elsewhere. Aphrodite’s shining, cerulean eyes were locked upon a figure standing within the shadows. Blue eyes met green, and she was lost. She had fallen in love with the flaming-haired mortal – the being she had been sent to kill.

“Well, not quite.” she reasoned quietly to herself, “He is most certainly mortal, although extraordinarily beautiful.”

Ignoring the diminutive, blathering humans surrounding her, Aphrodite sauntered forward, heading towards the one who had stolen her heart with a single glance. Her heart fluttered and swelled with every step she took – every step that brought her closer to her love.

However, with her gaze focused elsewhere, she couldn’t see the envious villagers behind her. Each glared at the being who had stolen her attention. _“Monster.”_ they thought, _“Why would such a powerful and beautiful goddess choose such a monster over us?”_ Their minds became clouded with jealousy and hatred, but none were naive enough to confront the goddess in fear of receiving her wrath.

Blind to the villager’s thoughts, Aphrodite paused a few steps in front of her target. He stood motionless in front of her. Hard, green eyes stared into hers before diverting themselves, and Aphrodite had to suppress a flinch. His eyes had been so cold, so, so –

Shielded.

It was as though he was trying to protect himself from his surroundings. Aphrodite shook her head slightly and pushed the observation away from the forefront of her mind. Gathering herself, she spoke with a flirtatious, but commanding voice.

“What is the name you deem yourself as?”

He appeared startled for a moment before shooting a quick glance at the villagers behind her. He quickly fixed his face into a mask of apathy and drawled a single name – his name.

“Roseus.”

Aphrodite swooned slightly, similar to a lovesick maiden, upon hearing his voice. It could compare with the smoothest ambrosia, for it flowed richly and sweetly from his mouth.

“Well then, _Roseus_ ,” she purred out, “I’m certain that we’ll get along _perfectly_.”

Days passed, and Aphrodite began her courting of Roseus. Each day, they grew closer and soon, days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. Although Roseus had a strong adversity to their coupling in the beginning, he soon fell in love with Aphrodite as his will weakened and shattered.

However, he became wary of the villagers. Unlike Aphrodite, he wasn’t blind to the jealousy and hatred that was directed towards him. They had been envious, he knew, far before Aphrodite had even come. The goddess’s fascination with him had only further kindled the fires of hatred within them, and Roseus knew that he could only watch for any sign that they may act out against him.

Months rolled by, and soon the days grew colder, and winter drew near. One frosty night, when Roseus had left his home to retrieve the firewood stacked alongside his house, an arrow struck him. It pierced through his chest with a dull thud. Red blossomed around the wound and soon stained his chest red. He stared uncomprehendingly into the distance before crumpling onto his knees. Each breath came as wet rasps, torrents of blood beginning to flood his lungs.

A scream suddenly rang out into the cold night as Aphrodite rushed towards Roseus, tears beginning to form within her eyes. She knelt beside him and held his crumpled form carefully as sobs escaped from her lips. She could see him growing steadily paler, and it only increased her agony as she held him closer to her. Their eyes met, blue against green, and Roseus gave her a faint smile before he let out his last breath of air and went still.

Inevitably, Aphrodite’s tears began to blind her as she let out small, hiccupping sobs. She bent her head down, and pressed one last kiss onto Roseus’s blood stained lips. Whilst doing so, she reached down within her soul and poured some of her essence into his still body. Pulling away, she watched as his body began to glow and compress down into a smaller shape until all that was left was a beautiful, scarlet blossom with a stem of pointed thorns.

Gently placing it on top of the light layer of blood-stained snow, Aphrodite turned to face the cowering villagers who had remained silent due to fear. Her lips drew back into a wild snarl, and her hair seemed to flow around her, forming a veil of gold. Power radiated off of her body in strong waves. She was furious. They had killed her love, so she would show no mercy. They would all pay for what they had done. She stalked forward, and the village was thrown into chaos.

The following morning, the only thing that remained of the village was a single, red, prickling blossom – a rose.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it!


End file.
